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“The Minotaur…”

Ciro was currently leaning against a wall of the downers, scratching idly at his cheek and doing his best to remember any information he had. “It’s a bull-man… Gree-- … No. I want to say Greco-roman, but it’s before that. “ He paused momentarily, trying to think of just what culture it was that he had studied before the Greeks.

“MYCENIAN. They had house-tombs, by the way.” He added the last bit on, his history study sessions finally paying off. “There’s this castle that some king built… There was a maze, and he kept his daughter in there guarded by the Minotaur or something. Anyway… some guy took him out and was given the daughter as a prize. I think he killed her dad… And then his brother took the girl or something… “

Spouting any information he knew off the top of his head, Ciro was doing his best, trying his very hardest, to prove useful despite being otherwise a drain on Crow’s abilities. He well knew that while he had given a horrible version of the story, he had given even less information on the Minotaur.

A cigarette was one more dangling from his lips limply, as he tried to come up with ways to describe the beast. “It’s powerful… Pretty much everything you’d expect from a bull combined with the punching and strangling and other abilities of a man. The best of both worlds.”

“And, unless you have any experience as a bull fighter, you’re probably in for a hard fight.”

His boots scraped against the pavement as he pulled himself to his full height, trying to make a better impression. “I’m not entirely sure I’m anything but a liability… But if there’s anything I can do…” Ciro’s voice trailed off, he knew damn well he wasn’t able to do a thing, but there was no way he would admit that, not in the least to Crow.

“You sure you’re going to go through with this?”

His hand reached out for her, trying to see what the source of her anguished voice was, but found nothing. Crow had moved too far away… Perhaps she had already began fighting? He wasn’t sure, but tentatively took a few steps forward. If she was already yelling… That could not be good. He was half certain that he’d go out there, grab that jackass of a bull, and light himself on fire if anything happened.

But then the sounds of pain ended, and her voice returned normally, if not a bit gruffer.

“Break a leg…. His.”

Yea, after saying something like that, he was pretty sure it sounded stupid. But after thinking that Crow had already been done in for that instant… Well, he wasn’t sure if sounding stupid even mattered.

He was well aware that getting closer to the fight was pointless; he could hear at that distance, he was out of sight, and out of reach. There was no way he could be used as a hostage, and yet he could still keep track of Crow’s progress…. Still….

The cigarette dangled once more as he trotted slightly closer to the opening of the alleyway.

Still, the further away he was, the longer it would take if he needed to help her. Seconds could be the moment between life and death in this situation.


And he really needed Crow to be alive.

Writ splashed through the rain and puddles of downers barefoot, his pawfeet with their claws tapped along the sidewalk as he sped block to block, looking for the a*****e who's making this whole mess.

He slid to a stop when he saw a familiar face, Ciro's, in the alleyway.

At least, with that blindfold on and everything, he was sure it was Ciro, it was hard not to be. If they were in any other situation right now, he would probably let off a little steam on him right now. But right now, they had enough to deal with already. A moment later, he heard a howl coming from that same alley. He peeked inside.

There was wolf with wings fighting a giant, axe-wielding, bull-man-thing.

Times like these, Writ really, REALLY wished he had a bigger axe.

Well, it was obvious who was on who's side. He was jealous once again. How come she could do that? Writ knew he couldn't do anything as cool as that... Coyote wasn't exactly charitable with his powers.

So he thought, Coyote was planning otherwise.

Writ's nose wrinkled to the toxic smell of Ciro's cigarette. He went next to him,

"I didn't know you smoked."

((Well, it's fair enough to do an entrance post before jumping into battle, eh?))

Ciro’s entire body temperature seemed to rise ever so slightly in response to the man’s voice, though he made every human effort to not show it. Calm… Calm. Maybe he could get him off guard… and then bam, take the ******** out.

He gave a snide expression, blowing more toxic smoke from his lungs into the otherwise pure alley air.

“So you’re still not dead it seems. Unless you’re just another ghost brought back, but that seems to be getting my hopes up.”

In fact, he would have loved to be even ruder to the annoying little pest, but then Crow’s… cry? Howl? What could he even call it? In any case, Crow was in pain, and Ciro didn’t have time to waste on brats like Writ.

“CROW!” His voice boomed out into the clearing, searching for her, “Are you aright?!”

Oh brother. Did he really make that bad of an impression on Ciro? You would think someone as angsty as him would still be capable of some friendly conversation.

Writ watched as Ciro called after Crow. Seems that he wasn't the only one who cared.

"Looks like we got something in common after all." The bull thing was headed straight towards them, but Writ seemed calm, very much like a certain trickster god talking to a certain enraged flower goddess.

"Unlike you, I'm going to do something about it." Writ pushed, or rather, tried to push, Ciro out of the way. That was when he noticed that the kid grew, to be a lot taller than him.

Well, you couldn't blame Writ for not seeing that before, they were kinda getting attacked by more than 400 pounds of supernatural cow meat, it was easy to miss everything else that was going on.

Now what to do?

The whole thing seemed familiar. It felt like a game of soccer, some kid decides to charge for the goal, and Writ's the first line of defense. Except that there wasn't any ball, there was a blind kid and a shapeshifter on his team, and the whole thing was in a wet alleyway. Normally, he'd body check the Greek and be on his way, but this was different. This kid was taller, and a lot bigger than him.

There was only one way to deal with those kinds of kids.

Writ held on tight to his tomahawk.

"If you want to help Crow..." Writ growled to Ciro, "You'll stop smoking your damn lungs out and help me beat this thing!"

He broke out into a run straight to the beast. Right before he went face first into the thing's chest, he dropped back, and slid down the wet pavement with one foot out, aiming for the bull's shins.

Soccer fans would call this a slide tackle.

It was a hasty move, not only did Writ missed, lets just say he got some whiplash from trying to go for a cow's shin. a hoof kick to the shoulder, in fact. That didn't feel too pleasant. He tumbled right next to Crow.

Writ panted, and tried to suck the pain in, holding his shoulder tightly. That, didn't go the way he wanted.

He looked up to the wolf, "Hey Crow... You look.... Different.... Haircut?"

The minotaur looked back at the two vulnerable squishies. Those squishes were full of vigor, a lot more fun to play with, a lot more satisfying to smash. It began another charge back at the two of them...

Minotaur - 15/20
Crow - 20/20

...and thus fools and children raced into battle... Morrigan remarked.

Crow growled rather fangishly at Writ, a slight snap-bark escaping before she dashed on ahead. Then Ciro fell to the wayside. Why in blue blazes did he come out to battle!? She immediately turned and dashed in his direction, arriving at his side in a matter of strides. She leaned her head down, poking his gently with her nose.

"Ciro... Seriously... Get out've here..."

The large bull turned after some time, and started heading towards the threesome.

"Get out of here NOW!"

She kicked off and started again, heading straight on for the bull. Dare he even attack Ciro, or attract the b*****d. He was to pay for his mistakes, and pay in the method of his blood. She launched forward, wings carrying her weight as she aimed for his throat...

Silly squishie dog, thought it could come from the front, did it?

He held is ax flat to the wolf, and instantly she hit her head. He could not help but chuckle at the sight of the pathetic squishie with a headache.

"Ow...Head... BIRDIES..." Crow muttered as her mind whizzed about. No injures, but just a good knock in the head.

Minotaur - 10/20 (W/O New Roll)

It only took a few more moments to come to. Especially that the ground shook like an earthquake was hitting. She glanced up quickly, why on earth was that mammoth going loco for?

It hit her instantly. Like a ton of bricks, and she physically reacted this way as well. She crouched down, curling her body slightly as her wings stretched back out. Crow's fur stood on end, moreso than it ever had before.

"YOU DID NOT JUST STEAL MY FIGHT YOU LITTLE--" The last curse was left unsaid as she jumped for the wall, turned, kicked off the wall, and immediately dove after Writ and the minotaur's open wound.

If Ciro still had vision, it would have come back very blurry. Lacking this, he was slightly blessed to fine that his hearing was just fine.

He knew... Well, it was physically just knocked into the boy, that he was useless in a fight. he could do nothing, and he knew it now. Even his last ditch attempt seemed to fail.

Still.... He could hear Writ and Crow bickering as the fight ensued, and a creeping envy was eating at him. Here... Thinking about it... If he could see, dodge, and move with the knowledge of the Minotaur's abilities... He could have easily lit the monster's face to a melted heap... But no, his powers would remain useless as long as he was hindered with his handicap.

His fists clenched once more... Internally, his mind was struggling between going once more into safety... Or rushing at the beast once more.

And the decision was made as he heard Writ's voice scolding Crow. He knew he'd probably also get yelled at.... But any hit he could take from the Coffee Retard was a little bit more satisfaction. His legs seemed for more stable than they had in a good long time....

But then instantly they seemed to give out. Ciro, much to his chagrin, found himself once more in the warm, dry deserts of his mind.


Shamash, however, found himself in the cold streets of the real world, with a large, raging beast and a few inferior godlings scuttling about.

His legs propelled himself forward, and dodging under the flailing arms of the angry Minotaur, the God felt his large hand come into contact with the rough, coarse fur of the monster.

It was all too simple for Shamash to let loose the heat of the sun, and almost instantly a fire erupted from the clenched hand. The flames lapped at the fur, causing a small fire to erupt on the creature's chest. It flailed even more violently against the flames, trying at once to put the fire out while getting those stupid squishies off of him.

Shamash, however, was not so slow or stupid as his human host. Almost as soon as the fire started, the man had dodged out of the way, looking for some sort of safety. His hands found the fire escape from earlier, and holding it for support, his ears listened intently for news from the battle.

The fire, which could have spread much quicker had the creature not been soaked in blood and sweat, had been confined to just a small portion of its chest. A balding, scorched spot was all that remained of the attack, and while Shamash could tell by the sounds that he had not landed a kill, he had done a small amount of damage.

A scowl crossed the possessed boy's face as he counted his losses, yet with his hand firmly wrapped around the fire escape, Shamash remained vigilant in his listening.